Ties That Bound
by Nattle Sage
Summary: They say that the best way is to leave the past and move on. However, when you desire nothing more than to follow that golden rule, past comes to haunt you down, unbidden. Harry finds out a secret about his family that endangers the lives of those he love
1. Prologue

A/N: So, I'm not dead after all. I'm here again with the new, edited version of the episode 1. Even if you have read the story before, go on and reread it, as almost everything (including some plot details) has been revised and well...changed. Just give it a try (once again) and please leave your reviews. It would be nice to know your opinion.

Just a reminder: it's a series of episode, set approximately two weeks after the episode "What about Bob?".

**Prologue**

_Some say that our greatest fears are but projections of our own troubled childhood. They say that the best way is to bury the past and move on. However as it is, when you desire nothing more than to follow that golden rule, past comes to haunt you down, unbidden…_

_**Lincoln Park, 1:30 a.m.**_

A young woman was swaying slightly, keeping closer to the lamplights. The cold November wind was blowing her tangled black hair into her face. She still was carrying a leftover bottle of beer that Peter insisted she took, her worn, out-of-fashion high-hills visibly slowing her down, making her pace even more unsteady than it already was. Yes, that party was awesome, she thought she still could make out the sounds of the music, or was that the starting hangover headache? Anyway, it did help her to forget, didn't it? Oh, she was so brave now! She was so...what was that word again?

The woman seemed completely oblivious to her gloomy surroundings, instead she was humming some soft tune she just heard. It was until she caught a slight movement in the corner of her eye when her heart skipped a beat. _No, it's just a...bird...or...something, right?_

She was alone in the deserted old park in the middle of the night and she had this nagging feeling that someone was stalking her. She gripped the bottle tightly as some sort of weapon and turned round swiftly…Nothing…Darkness and silence…She knew better…

"Hello? Who's there?" Her voice shook, her throat constricted in the desperate beg for alcohol just to sooth her nerves. Silence was the only answer. Somehow she felt some presence, it was that strange unexplainable feeling of cold dread that washed over her every once something wasn't right. Within time she learned to trust that feeling. "Hey, it's not funny!" She almost jumped as the shadow seemed to appear out of nowhere. It was a tall dark figure, it's face covered in the shadows of the trees. The woman gulped visibly but made no attempt to run or call for help.

"It's time…" the figure wheezed, it's voice flat and devoid of any emotion. "It's time for you to step into the game…"

"How do you know? I didn't get any sign," the woman's brown furrowed in thought. All the traces of the alcohol in her system gone at the sight of this frightening man...thing...creature... "Who sent you?"

"He did…I am the sign…it's time for the B plan," she felt the shadow smirk and it sent goose bumps all over her body. Still she held her head high, arrogance boarding on recklessness.

"What about the sacrifice?"

"Don't worry, it's already taken care of," the shadow made several slow deliberate footsteps forward. The woman didn't even flinch. Her pale worn out face seemed to glow unnaturally in the moonlight. "Let's do this." Her voice shook just a little as the bottle of beer slipped out of her shaking hand, breaking into hundreds of small pieces with the loud crack. The figure rattled with silent laughter and before she could notice it lunged at her. She didn't have a chance to jump or dodge, as in less than a seconds his hand lifted her off the ground as a ragged doll, his other one going for her chest. The air around sparkled bloody red...her lonely startled scream pierced the darkness above... There was a thud and a rush of cold freezing air... In a minute everything went silent…


	2. Chapter 1

_**Chapter 1**_

_**Lincoln Park, 10:30 a.m.**_

Lieutenant Murphy hated such cases. There was a body, lots of blood, actually, and no evidence whatsoever. Those were practically all her cases as of lately. There was, however, something common in them – they all tied up to Harry Dresden, one way or another.

"Anything about the victim's identity?" Murphy looked at the body of a young woman, spread on the ground. Her arms were looped oddly, one foot was missing a shoe, a dark-ruby sticky liquid from her ripped chest pooling on the cold pavement. _What a mess!_

"Lindsey Braton, 24, we've got her driving license here," Kirmani handed Murphy the files.

"Why wasn't she driving then?" Murphy looked up from the files, to see Kirmani scowl as per usual.

"Apparently, there was a party two blocks away. You know how it goes: she had good time, drank too much and decided to take a walk instead."

"And never made it," Murphy looked at the victim once again, suppressing a deep sigh. "Is M.E. Still around? I need the time of death." She waved to the plump man wearing a lab coat, who was dragging on a cigaret while his assistants were meddling with the plastic bag. "OK, I also need a list of all those who were at the party: names, occupations - you know the standard procedure."

Kirmani nodded stiffly, unconsciously rubbing the back of his neck. Noticing the nervous movement, the Lieutenant peered closer at her partner. He was strangely inarticulate today, which was never a good sign, was it? "Is there anything else I need to know?"

"Ah," He looked like a school boy caught in the middle of the mischievous. "It's nothing really...," he tried to brush it off, but, seeing her stern skeptical face, elaborated in an exaggeratedly bored voice. "I just wonder, you wouldn't call Dresden, would you?" His face was sour as if he's just eaten a bitter lemon.

"Do I need to call him?" She raised a slender brow. Kirmani was asking her about Dresden? Has the world suddenly stopped and started to roll backwards? _Seems, like things were more messed up than they looked._

"Well… we also found some powder near the body…" Her partner stated reluctantly, already imagining the shit hitting the proverbial fan and covering them up head to toes.

"Powder? Any clue to what it is?" Yep, she definitely didn't like this case.

"We don't know yet, I sent the sample to the lab." Kirmani shrugged nonchalantly, looking at the body being loaded on the stretcher and whiled away.

"So, we are having a body with the ripped chest, missing heart, and some strange powder nearby?" Murphy summed up. "Yeah, time to call the Harry Dresden." She sighed exasperated. _God, she didn't like it more than her partner did. _

"But…" Whatever Kirmani was about to say was rudely interrupted by loud male cries and curses.

Turning to the source of noise, the pair noticed a young lean woman approximately of 25, struggling with the police officer, trying to out-voice him and desperately pointing at what seemed to be an id, neatly pinned to her chest. She was of middle height, around 5' 6"; dark-blue high-hills added her some extra-height, though. Dressed up in dark-blue skirt and black overcoat with white elegant scarf around her neck, her shoulder-length wavy hair, dark chocolate in color, was messy because of the wind, so she constantly had to put the streaks out of her eyes to gain at least somewhat professional look.

"What's going on here, officer?" Kirmani was the first to ask as both he and Murphy neared the police cordon. The woman ceased her struggles immediately and, demonstratively dismissing both men, looked over to Murphy.

"Lieutenant Murphy?" Her voice was a bit harsh as if she had over-strained it, but she smiled pleasantly nonetheless. Sadly, Murphy didn't like that smile. Actually, she didn't like anything about the annoying girl. "Hi, my name's Melissa Lewis, I'm the Chicago News reporter. Can I ask you some questions about this strange murder?"

"Um, who let her in?" Murphy asked ignoring the reporter. Great, now press was messing with it. Preparing for quite a battle, Murphy turned to the eager journalist. "It's the crime scene, excuse me, but press is not allowed. I'm sure the statement would be issued later." She tried to make her voice as professional as she could and not to show her irritation. The reporter, however, seemed to disregard her word's completely, as she rushed up with her no doubt prepared speech.

"Oh, I understand, Lieutenant, but I'm afraid that people of Chicago have a right to know what is going on in their city. And it's my respective duty to deliver the message, isn't it? Especially when most cases are classified as "unsolved". Don't you think it put our good police in a bit of tight position here..." The way Melissa Lewis said it, brought that feeling to Murphy. The feeling that the woman knew much more than she let out. Glancing at Kirmani, Murphy gave an almost invisible sign that she had to handle this herself and led the reporter to the side, away from the prying eyes of both her colleagues and the gathering crowd.

"OK, spill it, what do you know about this case, specifically?" Straight to the point, no need to walk around the bush - that's was Murphy's tactics with all reporters, the pestering ones included. To her utter annoyance Ms Lewis gave her a little but pleased-with-herself smile, as if she already got the upper hand. _Gosh, she hated those types!_

"Well, the secure source suggested that since lately police department is getting some help from the consultant – the so-called "wizard" Harry Dresden. Is it true?" The journalist peered into the detective's face, before her face broke into a smug smile. Murphy, never one to get irked so easy, felt completely lost for a few seconds. _How did she...?_ She was so preoccupied with analyzing possibilities of the breech, she hardly caught up with the girl's next words. "Oh, I can see it is. Don't you think that it logically leads to the assumption that our police is not really **that** competent to solve cases on their own? I mean, that's of course such a ridiculous notion and I'm sure you will absolutely refute such a scenario...But the masses, well it will take some...persuasion...," Jeez, the way she chose the classy words made Murphy want to slap her. _Who, damn it, does she think she is? _It was only a phrase "You are a good cop, Connie," repeated over and over again in her mind like a mantra, that kept Murphy from actually materialize her wish. On the outside, she tried to brush the girl off with a cold look of determined professionalism. Not that it worked so swell. "To make long story short, I can mention **that** in my article or I can write about the investigation using some subtle first-hand material from a credible source, which is you, Lieutenant."

"In other words, are you blackmailing me?" Murphy asked coolly, though her insides shook in indignation. Come to think of it, she felt trapped; she was quite aware of what a reaction such an article could provoke. The head in the department would roll, and hers, most likely, would be the first one. She could see, sense even, this Lewis had done her homework thoroughly and was not the kind to back down. _Just bloody great!_

"Oh, of course no," Lewis shook her head vehemently, as if horrified at the very thought. _What an act!_ If not the given circumstances Murphy could stand up and applaud. "I'm just suggesting a bit of cooperation here. You provide me with some sufficient material for an article and fill me in new details, and I can also be of some help."

"Really? Why should I even consider that?" The usual tough cop attitude she used with "hard" cases failed miserably with this overly exuberant woman. Murphy felt her facade crack up, just what exactly she had on Harry Dresden?

"Because, Lieutenant, you know it's the right thing to do. And because Lindsey Braton had some nasty acquaintances I can tell you about. I assure you, you won't find that information anywhere else," Lewis let the phrase slip and hang in the air. Not waiting for a reply from the enraged detective she turned and briskly walked out of the crime scene, her hand flying in attempt to hold in place her waving hair. Some paces away the reporter turned, though she wasn't smiling anymore.

"I'll give you a call, Lieutenant, pretty soon."

* * *

_**Harry Dresden's apartment, 11:17 am.**_

"For the last time, Harry, you should bring this place in order, it's a complete…mess," the exasperated ancient ghost was following a very disheveled wizard, as he tried to find some notes in the pile of paper on the floor.

"Bob, rest it, OK?" The cursed sorcerer, currently known as "Bob" only rolled his eyes and sighed deeply. "Look, I'll do that as soon as I figure everything out. Murphy's still mad at me, and I have an appointment with Ancient Mai, which is not very promising, so…"

"So we'll be loosing clients just because you can't spare five minutes for cleaning?" Bob raised his brow sarcastically. In reality, he tried to do everything to distract his charge of the impending circumstances of the recent events. The wizard, of course acted unperturbed. In fact he was even more distraught than always, if that even was possible. Harry opened his mouth to say something, but then thought better than that, instead settling on glaring at the ghost, as if he was nothing but an annoying fly.

"You know, I think, you became even more grumpy," Harry muttered, heading to the living room, to put on his worn out red shirt.

"Well," Bob singed, following the insolent boy. "I guess that perishing for the second time in, pardon me the allegory, a row, has something to do with that," Bob answered somewhat dully.

Harry felt an immediate pang of guilt. Of course he should have know that the late irritation and absolute instability of Bob's moods were due to the Event. Hell, he should've been more delicate about the whole thing that happened between them. He, however, thought the best way was to forget and move on, right? It was in those little moments, those, insignificant as it might seem, comments that he felt that whatever impact the near resurrection of Uncle Justine had on Bob didn't quite dissipated; it was still there and Harry both dreaded and wanted for the stubborn dead man to crack up. It wasn't ever a good time,though, it seemed. Taking a deep breath, Harry was about to reassure his friend or say another meaningless phrase, meant fill in the uneasy silence, when the phone rang. And Harry Dresden was never so grateful to hear Murphy's voice before.

* * *

Pease, don't forget to review and tell me what you think!


	3. Chapter 2

A/N: Hello, so, the second chapter...Thank you everyone who read and reviewed the story so far! I would like to really know about my portrayal of the characters: are they believable? Close to the canon? Are there any suggestions on how to improve them or/and the story? Actually any type of the feedback is greatly appreciated! So read, enjoy and review, please!

**Chapter 2 **

_**Cook **__**Morgue, 1:30 pm.**_

Harry Dresden entered the morgue building and made his way down to the lab. Strangely, but this place became all too familiar to him within some months only. He nodded to Butters, the nervous M.E., and Kirmani, who in his turn groaned at the sight of the "wizard", openly showing just how "happy" he was to see the charlatan. Harry's eyes, though, were focused on the one other person in the room, whose reaction to him was more concerning.

"Hi, Murphy, how's life?" Harry said too cheerfully, still painfully remembering their last talk. Rather, how she almost jailed him for the murder of Uncle Justin. Why,why couldn't he tell her the truth? Oh, yes, the standard answer – too much was at stake there.

"Hi, " she replied without missing a beat, her features schooled in that all to familiar "cop" expression. "It would be better without all the strange stuff and crappy murders," she nodded at the body tersely. "Lindsey Braton, 24, worked in the"P_bar" on 24th Avenue. Obviously returned from the party, before she was stalked. Heart is missing, Butters?"

"Yes, yes," the medical expert answered hurriedly, taking over the conversation, oblivious to the growing tension in the room. "The autopsy has shown that unlike I previously supposed, victim's heart wasn't removed post mortem..."

"Let's make it clear, she was alive when someone cut out her heart?" Kirmani cried out in disbelieve. Murphy's frown deepened, her stomach sinking with the feeling of foreboding. Just what kind of monster could have done that? Butters looked at her clearly unsettled himself, trying to carefully choose his next words.

"Ah, as a matter of fact, the deceased's heart, it appears, wasn't exactly cut out..." he pointed at the now cleaned hole in the chest. Harry immediately wanted to look away, even that way, all cleansed and prepared, the sight wasn't pleasant in the least. "The lips of the wound are chaotic and ragged. There isn't, however, any specific pattern to it that would indicate the use of the murder weapon."

"Meaning?" Murphy prompted curtly, her heart already clenching with the realization she was silently begging was not the truth.

"Well, um...all the tests show that the victim's heart has been removed..."

"It was ripped out, while she was still alive," Dresden interrupted quietly, already deducing the messy scenario of the girl's demise. Harry could feel the bile burning in his throat, as the facts presented him with a gruesome mental image of the night of the murder. Looking around, he noticed the greenish face of Kirmani, his usual skeptical scoff present, while Murphy knitted her brows in suspicion, her tanned face pale, but set with determination. Turning to the M.E., she gave Butters a pointed look to go on with examination. Her insides sinking in, as she tried not to look at the wizard standing next to her. _Just how would Harry Dresden come to those conclusions? What did he know?_

"Ah, I...um...realize that it sounds pretty...wow...incredible, but...Mr. Dresden is right, all the tests came up positive, she was still alive when the perp...hm...did... his job. And he also left us a sample of a fingerprint. It's not clear, but it still can..." Butters trailed off lamely, finally noticing the silent confrontation he and Detective Kirmani were caught in. Murphy's eyes bored into Harry's, her face already settling into disbelieving, disapproving expression. Without tearing her eyes from Dresden's, she commanded, her voice freezing cold, making Butters visibly cringe.

"Good. Give the print to Kirmani. Kirmani, run it through our system and any databases that have fingerprints samples. I want the bastard caught." The both men nodded and busied themselves, though each of them payed a close attention to the unwinding scene.

"D'you know something we don't?" Murphy's focus was sorely on Dresden now, her eyes narrowed suspiciously.

"No," Harry answered bewildered. How could the table so hastily turn in his direction? "Hey, Murphy, I just got here! How could I know something about this murder?"

"You tell me...You just seem to...know stuff? I have no idea really, in fact, I don't know anything about you now." There was that cool tone again, the one she used, when leaving his apartment not so long ago; when he didn't, couldn't tell her the truth, despite his vehement desire to do just that.

"Hey, Murph, come on, you have to trust me." Harry looked at her with pleading eyes. She was his friend, the closest confidant he had, well, among the people, anyways. Murphy rubbed the bridge of her nose warily, quite aware of the looks on both her partner and Butter's faces. _Right, not a place to make a dramatic scene..._

"Yeah, fine," The tone of her voice, though, suggested it was anything but fine. She mentally kicked herself, there was no way she'll let this...man affect her work...more than he already was, anyways. She'll deal with the other issues later...someday...in the future... "We also found some powder on her body and nearby. Probably you'll help to figure it out. Kirmani, will you give him a sample? Call me if you find anything." With those words she turned and exited the lab swiftly, leaving the three man looking uncertainly at each other.

When Harry caught up with her in the hall, she was leaning against the wall, her eyes closed, her forehead pressed to the cool concrete, as if she was experiencing a wave of dizziness. Which probably she was, due to the amount of work that befell her these days.

"Murphy? Murphy!" She opened one eye and regarded him scornfully. "What's wrong with you? You're acting strange."

"Strange?" She looked vivid now, pushing of the wall, she neared him, her eyes flashing with irritation for everything she had to come through those several weeks: the doubt of her sanity in her boss's eyes, the laughs of her colleagues at her "brush with the woo world", the scare of her daughter when she woke up from her mother's nightmares...No, that was way too much for her ...She just didn't have any strength for Harry Dresden now. Actually, she doubted she would ever have... "You are talking about strange? Strange is your middle name, not mine!" She took a calming breath, composing herself quickly. She'll not give him the satisfaction of seeing her so...disturbed. "Look, Harry, I'm sorry...I just... have some other problems, and this case and the work in general...I just...don't want to deal with your world of craziness. Not yet." He nodded, his own expression guarded, though pain was evident in his eyes, where he couldn't hide his frustration and regret. Instead, he tried to mask it with a small understanding smile.

"OK, how about dinner?" Harry chirped in, hoping to lighten the mood, desperately needing to make things right between them. She just looked at him tiredly, so wary, it made his stomach turn with helplessness .

"Maybe...sometime... After I'll figure out this case," she sighed deeply, running a hand through her loose hair wearily. The further away she stay from Harry Dresden, the better it will be for her. "Look, call me if you get something, alright?" She went down the hall, not waiting for his answer, not giving him a second glance, leaving Harry with the dreadful feeling of emptiness and loss.

_**Chicago Times headquarters, 2:44 pm.**_

The head office of the large newspaper was a bustling place. People walking in and out, the clicking sounds of working equipment, excited shouts over the phones and occasional cries for the lost papers. Those who were not used to such working conditions could easily get lost and disoriented in this chaos of a working place, but for reporters that was a kind of a "creative mess" - they didn't pay much attention to all that clutter.

Melissa Lewis was certainly one of those gifted journalists, whose insight and bright mind together with boldness and lack of timidity helped to get the best material and uncover the mysteries that were usually hushed up from the prying eyes. Even now she was typing away some new bomb material that promised to fray the authorities' nerves. Her table was beautifully and stylishly decorated in bright green and violet without any inappropriate, out of fashion or standing out of place detail. Perfection and stylish minimalism that all shouted the fashionista of an owner. A cup of coffee rested near the photo frame of a smiling young black haired man.

"Hey, Lewis, how's it going?" her fellow coworker and first-hand aid, Jake, came over holding two big files. He was a sweet guy, the same age as her, and getting into the job just because he was very good at following the commands. You tell him to climb into the waste bin to get a new lead and he would do that with little protest. Smitten with the young but talented journalist he was always ready to help and do any even highly unpleasant job for her despite the overly tight schedule of his own. It was endearing even, how she always could manipulate him into doing things for her first and make him leave his actual job for later. Endearing and somewhat nettlesome. To think of it, it's been almost eight month and he yet had to pluck up his courage to ask her out. Not that she would agree...But still, what a shy puppy he was! No wonder Melissa liked to have him around.

"Hey, Jake, just finishing the article about the murder in the park." She stretched in her seat lazily, her natural cat-like grace and lean body pretty visible through her transparent purple blouse immediately drove the man speechless. Gulping the remains of her already cold coffee, Melissa resisted the urge to roll her eyes and snap her fingers, bringing him back to focus. Instead, she smiled pleasantly. "Found something for me?" She pointed to the folders, that special driven glint of anticipation in her big green eyes. Jake blinked, his eyes founding those enchanting ones of his colleague.

"Yeah, I'm fine thank you!" He pronounced with a sarcastic whine, feigning hurt at her luck of curtsey. Melissa just huffed, blowing away the streak of her annoyingly floating waves from her face.

"Jake, you know I don't have time for this one. But I love you, regardless," She chided him as a small child, all the while smiling her little disarming smile that always made him try to impress her even more.

"Yep, ma'am! Love you too!" He mocked, rolling his eyes. "Here's what you asked. All I could find about Lindsey Braton. Nasty girl she was! Private bars, "special group meetings", old men involved – all that in her sweet age, horrible!" Jake handed her the file. Melissa skipped through it hastily, before putting it aside, fixing the young man with a penetrating stare."Anything else?" She prompted expectantly, knowing that there certainly was more. Sure enough, he did his job well. Jake sighed a bit disappointed: when Lewis was on the lead, she was a bitch-like not people person. _Maybe later he'll manage to invite her on the cup of coffee, maybe if he tried harder he...they could... _

"Just as you asked. I had to sweat on that one," he handed her the second file. For a minute he thought he saw her green eyes sparkle some unnatural bright light, but in a second the maniacal glow was gone. She put the file aside, not opening. He regarded her curiously, what was with her and this case? He never saw her to be so detail-squeezing, driven even.

"Why do you need the case of five year old? I mean, Justin Morningway has died long ago, heart attack, no less, nothing striking in that, uh?"

"Yeah, nothing…" Melissa seemed distant and unwilling to say anything more. Jake could almost see those gears in that pretty head of hers turning with lightning speed. Now, it was no use to fight for her attention. As if to prove his point, the reporter suddenly stood up and grabbed her coat, her eyes sparkling with determination. She seized both files and turned to Jake, her disarming smile was enough to leave him roiled. "Thanks, Jake, you did a great job! The article will be blasting!" She quickly, impulsively, moved to give him a quick peck on the cheek, enough to make the pretty rose blush to appear on his baby smooth face. Before he could recover, she continued, practically batting her long eyelashes. "Look, can I ask you one more favor, please?" She smiled so sweetly, he couldn't say no even if he wanted.

"Um...sure...wh-hat is it?" He stuttered dumbly, cursing himself all the way. Why he couldn't act like a man around her?

She regarded him somberly, all traces of smiles gone, making sure he understood it was not a joking business. "I need you to find all you can about one more person." He just shrugged his shoulders, relieved she was not mocking him in any way. _Did she even understood how much power she had over him?_ He'll do anything for her, really. Gulping, he nodded his head:

"OK, who exactly?"

Her voice was cold and detached, when she answered:

"Harry Dresden."

_**Harry Dresden's Office, 3:15 p.m.**_

"I can't understand what's wrong with her!" Harry exclaimed exasperated, pacing back and forth the floor of his secret lab. Bob, who was closely scrutinizing the photos of the crime scene, looked up, his brow crooked.

"I suppose you are referring to Lieutenant Murphy?"

"Yes, yes, she…she was so distant…like…", Harry struggled to put his ragging emotions into words, finally sighing in defeat – self-expression was never his forte. "...like we are not friends anymore."

"I suppose in those situations the phrase "Give it some time" would be remarkably suitable." Bob returned to the photos, absently rubbing the black manacles encircling his wrists. The wizard glared at his back, before giving in. After all, Bob wasn't someone he could talk about things like that. His last brush up with females was quite a while ago and even than, who knew how he was with them... Harry cringed at the mental images his brain didn't hesitate to present at the thought of Bob and women. That was ...unsettling, in the least.

"Yeah, guess you're right, but it's still…disturbing," Harry exhaled deeply, ruffling his hair in frustration.

"I should think that solving that case will improve the situation. After all, the good Lieutenant will see that you are helping her out, not cause her distress," Bob answered, not tearing his eyes from the photos. Really, who was he to give any women related advices? He did love a woman, obsessively so, and look where it has got him? "Harry, mark the way her arms are looped. It's rather an unnatural position for a random victim." Bob pointed at the photo of the girl. Lindsey Braton, Harry reminded himself. Her body was slumped onto the pavement, as a discarded rag doll. Surely if she was attacked she should've put up a struggle, right? The force behind the attack was incredible to leave her thrown-away on the ground like that.

"Yes, it looks like whoever did that was far larger and more muscular, not giving her a chance to defend herself," Harry mused aloud, before looking up at the ghost, his eyes glimmering with anticipation, his mind already in gear, trying to piece the parts of the puzzle together. "Only I don't think that this girl was random victim, Bob. Murphy said they found some powder nearby, that and the fact that no man is strong enough to do that without some sort of a weapon and not attracting attention. I mean, how really strong you should be to rip the heart out before she could scream? Someone would have surely heard her. Looks like our case." Harry smirked humorlessly. Why, just when he was hoping for some time off, things just happened to find him? He needed to stop and think, to work things out with both Bob and Murphy, instead, it seemed that the two of them were drifting more and more away, and he couldn't think of a single thing he could do to improve the situation. Suddenly, Harry felt very much alone. Before the feeling could escalate to the whole mind-blowing depression, he tried to block it, willing himself to go back to the case at hand. Lindsey needed him to find out her killer, he can deal with his personal life later.

"And you haven't got the sample of that powder by any chance?" Bob asked in his usual "you-are-so-careless-it's-a-wonder-how-you're-still-alive" tone, his eyebrow raised questioningly, smug smile playing on his lips. Harry rolled his eyes, all the previous musings forgotten. _Why did this ghost always felt the need to be so smart?_

"I've got it, Murphy practically thrust it into my hands. Surprisingly, she thinks I have something to do with it."

"Except that this time you don't," Bob carried on, his tone unnervingly placid. There was an unpleasant pause, where each of them got back to the events of the past several weeks. Suppressing his own painful memories, Bob turned to his former student, all business-like, rubbing his hands in anticipation. "OK, let the professional take a look." The ghost let his slender fingers trace the unknown substance lightly, eyes closing in deep concentration, his face placid and absent. Harry could only guess what happened to him during those "procedures". When he finally came back from whatever trance he was in, his face became an interesting mixture of distress and surprise. Bob was silent for a moment, as if he was trying to find the right words to explain his finding. Harry huffed impatiently, urging Bob not to stall and just spill it.

"What's it? Did you get the ingredients?" Harry asked eagerly, only to feel dread feeling his guts at the grim look on Bob's ashen face.

"Kananga flower, ylang-ylang, acacia leaves used as aspergillum, a John the Conqueror root for commanding power," the ghost muttered absently, rubbing his manacles with double force. It took him a second to blink away, whatever memories or disturbing thoughts he encountered while inspecting the substance, before he visibly had to shake himself out of it. Regarding his friend with a unnerved, almost frightened expression Bob continued in a gravel leveled voice, his intensified British accent the apparent sign of his agitation. "My, Harry, whoever was planning this ritual knew very well what he was doing."

"You mean like he was a **professional** professional?" Harry asked, an unpleasant shiver running down his spine. "What's the ritual? Commanding a zombie? Calling for a ghoul?"

"I'm not sure, Harry!" Bob exclaimed nervously. Though his eyes never met the wizard's. He turned his back to Dresden, his keen eyes scanning the shelves as if looking for an answer. "We have a body with a ripped heart, and we have a combination of herbs, the components that have a murderous effect, excuse me my humor." Bob listed, his hands twitching slightly, before he went all still, as only the ghost could be. Several seconds seemed to drag endlessly as Harry also listed those things in his head. There was something there, on the surface, you have to only scratch it and all the parts will take their place. Bob turned to him so suddenly, Harry almost jumped out of fright, the look on the ghost's face shaking him to the core. Then something clicked in Dresden's head, he did remember. Bob peered closely at Harry's face, which was continuously loosing it's color, as the realization hit him even before the ghost could voice it . "Harry, whatever we are dealing with, it's obviously the darkest, most macabre sort of Black Magic!"

"Oh, shit!"


	4. Chapter 3

**Sorry for the delay, but it's really not that easy to rewrite things, specially since you have to get down to the emotional undercurrent of the whole series) Anyways, I'm still here and, though, I won't promise a quick update, it's surely will come out sometime in June (hopefully). All the same, I hope you do enjoy, and I would very much appreciate your reviews (any flames, suggestions and just simple notices are welcome)))))**

**Chapter 3**

**Mac's Diner, 6:30**** pm.**

That was a typical cozy diner on the corner of two streets, midtown Chicago. Right now, at dinnertime, it was a rather busy place. A couple with two young boys sat at a table in the middle of the room. The kids were playing with the hand-held electronic games. A bit further, a group of what seemed like the college students were laughing and discussing an upcoming premiere of a new action film in loud exited voices.

Connie Murphy made her way up to the far corner of the spacy room until she saw the wavy curls of the _Chicago Times_ reporter. This day has been bad enough. Firstly, they were absolutely out of leads on the case: no particular witnesses and victim's ex-roommate wasn't any help either. More than that, the fingerprint found on the body wasn't found in any existing database, not even in the airports' records all over the US. Kirmani spent the whole night going through them and still they came with nothing, nada. Now all she could do was sit tight and wait for an update from Dresden. And she honestly hated being dependent on him.

She also got a call from her ex-excuse-for-a-husband. He was going for the conference of some sorts and couldn't take Anna with him. Of course she missed her girl, but right now, with her in the middle of investigation, it wasn't the best time to worry about the safety of her daughter. On top of her rather shitty day, just like the proverbial cherry, was the set date with Miss Lewis. Right after her grand appearance on the crime scene in Lincoln Park, Murphy ordered Kirmani to run her through the database, see if there was something they should know about the girl. The results disappointed her somewhat. Born in Chicago, studied in the University, majoring in journalism, works at Chicago Times – nothing to press her with, in case things got rough. _Just great!_ _Can't believe I'm doing it._ Sighing deeply, Murphy prepared herself for the battle of wits as she slid into the booth opposite of the blasted reporter.

"Lieutenant," Melissa greeted her with beaming smile. _Does she ever have a shitty mood? Probably not, until I'll find something to kick her butt with!_ "It's nice to see you again. Thanks for accepting my invitation."

"Miss Lewis," Murphy said straightforwardly. There was no need to dance around with the pleasantries. "Why I am here?" The reporter seemed absolutely unperturbed by the other woman's coldness, in fact it made her somewhat more cheery.

"Ah, I believe you are a rather smart woman, Lieutenant, and you understand all the ...um...precariousness of the situation should...some rather unpleasant facts face the judgment of the publicity," her voice was timid, her face mild with the hint of sympathy, that itched Murphy even more. _How dare this bitch sit here and make fun of her!_ "It is in your best interests that you decide to cooperate. Moreover I have some information that can be helpful in your investigation..."

"Such as?" Murphy asked rather skeptically. She didn't trust that glamorous ever-perfectly-dressed journalist a single bit. Everything about her was fake. Even the way she was holding her cup of coffee, too mannered…Murphy shrugged her shoulders – it wasn't time for observation, she should just get over with it and then call Dresden, he had probably already known more than she did at the moment.

"Don't be in a hurry," Lewis chuckled good-naturally, as if reading her thoughts. "D'you want some coffee? My treat."

"No, thank you. I have a work to do, publicity to face," Like hell she would be drinking coffee with this high-class blackmailer. The reporter sighed, clearly disappointed.

"Very well," she moved to her black-lathered-clearly-worth-more-than-one-hundred-bucks handbag and produced a manila folder, which she promptly slid onto the table, just short out of Murphy's reach. "That's all I could get on Lindsey Braton. There's some dire stuff, mind you, the girl's clearly known how to amuse herself. But, you know, the fact stroke me most was that this Lindsey had a connection with a very...shall we say, influential man... Justin Morningway…" Lewis let the last phrase slip easily, while her eyes were watching carefully for the older woman's reaction. Which proved to not to be a disappointment; on the other hand it was rather entertaining.

"What?" Murphy almost jumped, her eyes full of disbelief. _What was that? What kind of a twisted coincidence was that? Or wasn't it a coincidence at all?_

"According to some trustworthy source she was a kind of assistant of his when she was still in college. Mind you, when I say an assistant I mean she ran some minor errands for him, nothing more...private...Obviously, usually he phoned her or sent her a note if he needed something." The reporter's eyes were glimmering with excitement.

"Like what?" Murphy still was bewildered. Just when she thought that all the crap with Dresden killing his uncle was over, when she was almost ready to drop it and move on, a murdered girl appears, with a connection to Justin Morningway and that presupposed with an ultimate connection to Harry Dresden. _Way, to believe in karma!_

"Well," Melissa shrugged her shoulders nonchalantly, "here's the list of the shop's she frequently visited," she handed Murphy a slip of paper, previously hidden in a pocket of her flawlessly tailored and pressed dark blue jacket. There was a list of names that Murphy had never heard of. She looked at Lewis confused.

"What's that?"

"That, Lieutenant, are the shops she got ingredients in," Lewis sized the detective with a solemn gaze in her sparkling emerald eyes.

"What for?" Murphy asked almost timidly. Did she really want to know? Probably not, but there was no way back, was there?

"I've no idea…Magic?" Murphy suddenly felt ill. Why did this word followed her around like a swamp of noisy bees? She mentally shook herself: she'll deal with this thing later. Now she has a reporter to fry.

"How exactly did you get hold of that information?" Murphy asked suspicion evident in her voice. Once again Lewis gave her a small evasive smile that revealed all and nothing. _Boy, was she a gambler!_

"I'm a journalist, that's my job."

"Oh, yeah?" Murphy looked at the other woman, mistrust clearly written on her face.

"Look, it's strange, isn't it?" The reporter leaned forward in the leather seat, clear agitation in her voice. "First, Morningway dies out of heart attack and the case is closed, no autopsy, nothing. Then, five years later his body is exhumed by your request, Lieutenant, nonetheless, " Lewis looked Murphy in the eyes, her own lightening up with animation. "And now his assistant dies, out of the sudden…Isn't it a bit of strange? Coincidence? Or a very well planned revenge?" Not waiting for Murphy's reply, she continued, this time keeping her voice down, leaning up towards a bewildered detective. "And you know what the strangest thing is? In the middle of all this there is one person," She didn't have to finish, because Murphy had already finished it in her head - "Harry Dresden".

"What are you implying?" Murphy exclaimed indignantly still disbelieving, still clinging to her last bits of clear unclouded mind, while in truth her head was swimming with all the information she got. _Dresden, again Dresden was in the middle of it all. A coincidence, really? Not a chance!_

"I'm not implying anything," Lewis answered placidly, truthfully. "I'm merely doing my job. I don't know anything about him after all. And I do completely trust your judgment, detective. But Lindsey Braton did stick in the bad company and there wasn't anyone there to protect her. You need to find whoever did this, find him and punish accordingly."

"Why are you doing this?" Murphy asked dazzled, desperate, but still doubtful of the woman.

"If I tell you I want a retribution, would it be too much for you to believe? Say, I really want for whoever is responsible for the girl's death to be found? You won't accept it, will you?..." The reporter sized the detective, a look of complete mistrust in the older woman's eyes, before continuing with ease, as if they just didn't have a compromising conversation and were simply the two old friends sharing a good laugh. "Think of it as of a thrill I get, letting people know the truth, getting excited with the prospect of a good investigation, Lieutenant," Lewis shrugged her shoulders, before breaking into a radiant smile. "But if I'm completely honest with you, I just need a blasting story."

* * *

_**Lisa Adams' apartment, 7:40 pm.**_

_Using the search spell is not an easy task, especially if you don't have a part of the deceased, but a handful of powder from her death place. And that's where police connections __come in handy... _

The house was in the outskirts of Chicago, nice, newly washed two-stored cottage, surrounded by ivy fence. The gravel pavement led to the green door decorated with the faded symbol of the former sorority hiding place. Harry Dresden slowly climbed the squeaky porch, looking around carefully, just a nervous habit of his as of lately. Harry was about to knock on the door, when it burst open, wide enough to let the bright light momentary disorient him. Blinking several times, Dresden finally could see a slim silhouette of a young girl in the door-frame, the soft light of the hall lamps giving her almost a surrealistic romanticized look. For a moment the girl looked as confused as he might have seemed, before she hastily composed herself, attempting at looking confident and cool. She was tall, Harry noticed, an athletic type, blond with big brown eyes that were slightly puffy, as if she has spent some time crying before she tried to cover it up with a make up. All in all, she had delicate doe-like features that were further emphasized with the light white summer dress she wore.

Lisa Adams stared at the stranger, her expression changing rapidly from fear to curiosity and unease. Harry could tell that she was contemplating between asking him politely what he wanted and calling the police. Clearly the hockey stick, clasped tightly in his hand didn't help the case.

"Hello," Harry began with an easy smile, trying not to spook the girl more than he'd already done. "Are you Lisa Adams?"

"Why are you asking?" The blond questioned challengingly, with more confidence in the voice than she felt. Harry raised both arms in the calming gesture.

"Hey, it's alright, I just need to ask you a few questions about your former roommate, Lindesey Braton...," he trailed off noticing a guarded look, appearing on the blond girl's face.

"Are you from the police?" She demanded, her voice out of pitch with what Harry guessed was anxiety. Making the friendliest face he could master without overdoing it, Harry choose his next words properly, so as not to aggravate the already frightened girl.

"No...not exactly...I'm...sort of a private detective – Harry Dresden, here's my card..." He took out his PI license before turning it so that Lisa could read it. Her eyes scanned the ID over and over, before her big eyes returned to his, her face holding less reservation and more curiosity now. "That is...It's more of a family matter than the police, you know..." To his relief, the girl's face eased somewhat, before she nodded in an almost friendly manner. She took a deep breath before giving him a small timid smile that still looked adorable on her small pretty face.

"Well, hello, I'm Lisa, but you probably already know that, right?" Harry nodded, giving her a reassuring smile.

"I...was just looking for Bob, haven't you seen him?" She asked tentatively, still assessing the wizard.

"Bob?" Harry asked, utterly confused now.

"Yeah, Bob, my dog, big white setter?" The girl prompted, moving her rich platinum hair out of her eyes.

"N-no. Sorry." Harry stuttered, stupid innuendos on his mind, shaking his head apologetically.

"Oh, well, that's OK. He's keen on running away, but always comes back – dogs!" She looked closely at Dresden once again, before opening the door a crack wider. "Well, come in, Mr. Dresden. Though, I'm sure I've already told everything I knew to the police, not that it's much to tell, really..."

She walked him to the brightly lit lilac-colored sitting room, that, as Harry quickly assessed, must've cost quite a fortune, judging by cream colored tastefully chosen designer's furniture and a huge plasma TV carefully put next to the fireplace. The worn out state of the floorboards, though, told about the former carelessness of their pretty owner. Harry thought that once it could have made a perfect place for students' parties. And by the looks of it, so it was.

"D'you want something to drink, Mr. Dresden?" Lisa asked politely, gesturing for him to a sit in the one of the armchairs.

"Just call me Harry." He smiled again, this time the girl returned it full force. Yeap, he definitely had the talent to make women at ease. "And no, I'm okay... So...you and Lindsey were roommates at college, right? Did she live here?"

A shadow ran over Lisa's face quickly and as she cast her eyes down to her lap, her fingers nervously traced the patterns on the leather coach. When she finally looked up at him, her eyes were full of fresh tears, ready to spill, her resolve breaking even though she tried hard to control them.

"It's my fault, Mr. Dresden...Harry! God it's all my fault!" Her voice was full of anguish, as she took a deep calming breath. Harry caught himself struggling with the desire to reach out and embrace her. He, however, remained seated, waiting for the girl find her strength and continue.

"Lindsey was different when we had first met. She was so...happy, radiant. Her smiles drove all the boys crazy!" Lisa gave a small laugh as the look in her doe eyes became distant, reminiscing. "When I saw her I knew we would be great friends! We were so different and yet so alike! When I first arrived at college I was sure everyone would just hate me. You know, how people are about the rich girls that always get everything they want! Well, I wasn't exactly one of them! I just wanted a change, for once I wanted to do something on my own, without my father's name mentioned. Do you know how everyone was looking at me? Like I've already done something to them to deserve a dirty image! But not her, not Lindsey...She just treated me like she would everyone else...It meant so much to me, to have just a friend, not the person who'll judge you just for your name, you know?

She came from a small town in Washington and she didn't have much money on her either. Her mother was hardly scrapping up some for her tuition. But she was, oh, so determined! She did everything to get what she wanted and I guess that's what made us such great friends. For the first semester she lived in the dormitory, but as we fast became so close, I just couldn't let her be miserable there. So, I suggested we lived together, here. My father bought me a cute house when he learned that I'm only going to college in Chicago and won't take no for an answer!" She smiled almost shyly, her eyes once again bright with pride of her own little war won.

"Wow, you have a great father!" Harry remarked wistfully. Lisa nodded eagerly.

"The best he is! Anyways, we fast became best friends, me and Lindsay. She was so alive, so energetic! Always wanting to do something new, try everything. It was like watching a school girl on a shopping spree in New York! I guess, her enthusiasm was rather contagious – everyone in college was smitten with her, she was a soul of every company... Everyone thought she would do so great in life..." She added sadly, her eyes once again full of sorrow.

"What happened then?" Harry asked cautiously, sensing a change in her mood. Lisa's brows furrowed, as if she tried to remember something very important.

"I can't really say when it happened, I mean, it was the last year in college and we were so preoccupied with all the stuff. It was like everything changed in one moment. I do think it was that she stuck in that bad company, if you know what I mean?" Harry obviously didn't. But nodded amicably, encouraging the girl to continue.

"She stopped going out with us, spent all her time cooped up in her room. Sometimes, she went away and wasn't home all night. When I tried to ask her where she'd been she just brushed me off, said she was out and that I should stop stalking her! She stopped talking to our friends. That was horrible! We tried to talk to her for several times, but it was like she didn't even notice we were there. It only got worse when she got that job..."

"The job?" Harry became immediately intrigued. "What kind of job?" Lisa shrugged her shouldered, her face scrunched up in disgust.

"Said she was a kind of assistant to some rich bloke. I tried to ask about him, but she never talked about it, said that he made her swear to be silent. Ordered! I'd known back then that was her grave mistake!" Lisa exclaimed her smooth face contorting in anger and desperation.

"Why was it?" Harry inquired excitedly. _Now that was definitely something interesting! _It seemed that his companion also shared the agitation.

"Because, I'm sure that was him, who got her into this whole voodoo world! I mean, she had been such a normal girl, with goals and prospects and, like, in a click she became like that...obsessed with magic and what not!" Harry moved forward slightly. Magic? Was she involved in some gruesome rituals that led her to such a fate? And who was that mysterious man she worked for? No doubt he had some hand in this Lindsay's obsession.

"Magic?" He asked trying to sound skeptical. It won't do any good if Lisa found out that he was, in fact, very much involved with magic himself. Lisa snorted in revolt.

"Yeah, sounds crazy, right? Well, I had to live with that! Not only did she bring home all the awful stuff, like, say, candles and knives and all the scary satanistic books, but, no, that clearly was not enough for her! I woke up in the middle of the night to hear her mumbling, singing the "spells", she called them! That freaked the hell out of me!" She stopped and took a deep breath, to calm her nerves. Turning her eyes to Harry, the blond looked pained, regret written all over her face.

"Try to understand, Harry, I never wanted it to be like that. God sees, if I had any clue that it would come to that I would have never done the things I did. I'm so-so sorry!" Her mouth twitched and several tears escaped her lovely eyes, before she could catch them with a sniff. Harry couldn't help but move to sit right beside her. Taking her small hand in his, he squeezed it tightly, trying to give the girl the reassurance to go on with her story.

"What happened, Lisa?" He asked gently, his eyes calming and soothing. The girl hesitated before looking away in shame.

"I told everything to my father. I just...I couldn't live like that! He was beyond himself! Flew all the way from Houston and practically threw Lindsey away. God, was he mad! I tried to reason with him, but he wouldn't listen. I could do only one thing...I gave her the money I was saving for my trip to France. She didn't want to take it at first, but I insisted, begged her even! She was an orphan by then, her mother had died a couple of years before. She didn't have any relatives and I...I ...Oh, Harry, I just felt so bad for her! I never knew that it would lead to... that...! She was... like a...sister to me and I ….I...let her down...! I should've helped her!" The sobs broke down Lisa's body as she shook violently, gasping for air, breathlessly. Harry moved closer and took the crying girl in his arms. Was it her fault, truly? Just how many times do we do something like that? Thinking that those are our best intentions, while, truly, we are breaking someone's heart? Just how many times do we lull ourselves to sleep just thinking that what we had done was the only right decision to make? His shirt was gradually becoming wet as the blond cried her heart out for her lost friend, his arms moving in comforting circles on her back, smoothing her hair, all the while whispering soothing words into her ear. He did understand. Deep down, the nagging and almost nonexistent by now voice told him that was exactly what he had been doing to another woman, the one he never wanted to see hurt.

Harry wasn't sure how long had they been sitting like that, but after some time Lisa's sobs subsided into quite gulps of air. Soon enough, she pulled away, clearly embarrassed by her break down.

"Sorry," she mumbled, not meeting his eyes, her little hands quickly rubbing off the remains of tears from her beautiful face. "I'm not usually for the drama...it's just..."

"Hey, I know it's hard, OK? It's not your fault at all," Harry patted her hand reassuringly. "You couldn't have known what was to happen. It's not you fault, ok?" His words burned with determination and Lisa nodded her head despite herself.

"Thank you, for you know, comforting thing," she smiled shyly, her eyes still glistering with tears and Harry caught himself thinking just how lovely she was at the moment. Shaking himself slightly, he gave the blond an easy smile.

"It's no problem at all. You know, if you want to talk, you can just call me...If you want," Harry finished lamely. Clearing his throat, he continued. "So, have you heard of Lindsey after she'd moved out?" Lisa's eyes instantly lost their shine, her face once again solemn.

"I haven't heard anything about her for five years. I mean, I tried to find her, it's not like I didn't care or anything. I asked all our friends, looked everywhere, but no one had heard of her! I lost all the hope to see her again, before two weeks ago I ran into her in the mall!"

"You saw her two weeks ago?" Harry asked in disbelieve. Lisa nodded her head furiously.

"Yeah, can you imagine my shock! It was like nothing happened, like we haven't been separated for five years! I mean, she did wore those strange amulets on her neck and bracelets on her arms, but it was like the old Lindsey was back! All smiles and laughs. She seemed genially happy to see me. She even kissed and hugged me and I was too shocked to even react to that."

"Did she act weird?" Harry asked trying to picture the changed Lindsey in his mind. What has happened to the girl, who once sacrificed her life for the sake of magic, so that she became a visibly normal person again? The more he learned, the more questions popped up in the wizard's head.

"If you mean going-back-to-the-way-she-was-in-college-weird?" Lisa shook her head. "It was like I took a trip down the memory lain. She asked me to have lunch and we talked. Like really talked! I tried to ask what she has been doing all those years, but she was so evasive! She's just told me she was traveling and wasn't here for a long time. Said she was here with friends and they were planing on going to the Great Lakes. Gosh, it was like a deja vu, frightening even, I mean it's like I was back in time!"

"Did she tell you anything else?" Why did Harry have the shrewish feeling that everything was connected in there. It wasn't a random meeting in the shopping center. Why did he felt like Lindsey planned it? And why, dammit, that period of time, five years, seemed so significant to him?

"Oh, yeah, she said she was so happy to see me and that we needed to catch up so she invited me to dinner the next day. Of course I agreed, I mean, I was shocked and wanted to know what she has been doing all the time and I wanted to apologize for how everything had happened between us. So, I agreed and I waited, but she never came. I tried to call her about 20 times, but she simply didn't pick up. I was so determined to make things up between us, so I made some inquires and found out she has been living here all the time! I just can't tell you how betrayed I felt! I mean, sure, I did deserve it, her anger and payback, and all, but still, she made it so clear that she wanted to put the past behind us and now..." She trailed, the pent up emotions still fresh, raging inside her: anger, regret, confusion.

"So, you went to her place..." It wasn't a question, but Lisa nodded nonetheless.

"I did. Came to her and banged on that bloody door until my hands hurt. It was a disaster, really. I shouldn't have come. She was a mess, just like I remembered her to be, just like those five years has never happened. Even worse. She was shaking all over, hysterical, drunk, mad. She was terrified and honestly, so was I. She screamed at me, threatened to kill me if I didn't get out. God, it was awful! She practically threw me out of her house, all in tears, all the time muttering over and over like she was indeed crazy!" Lisa shook her head, trying to get rid of the terrifying image of her friend's madness.

"Did you hear what she was saying?" Harry asked urgently. He knew he was close to putting the thing together, so close he needed one more clue and he'd have it – the whole picture. But what was it?

"Yeah, I do, and if that all wasn't enough to scare me shitless, her words were. She kept repeating them as if hypnotized: "He's back, he's back,oh my, how can he be back?"

"Who's He?" Harry prodded, breathless. Lisa just shrugged her shoulders.

"No idea, she wasn't even coherent at that time. I just couldn't take it anymore, I took off and ran all the way home. That's the last time I saw her...God, I've even learned about what happened from that news...paper article, really, by this chick...um...Lewis something...yeah, Melissa Lewis. It's just...it's so awful..." Though she looked like she was about to break down again, she breathed out deeply, giving Dresden a small, watery smile, which he returned. It all didn't make sense. So, supposedly, Lindsey was into witchcraft, supposedly, she was stuck in a bad company. It still didn't explain who would want her killed or why was she so important. The only thing he was sure about is that she obviously knew that her life was in danger and she had possibly known her killer. Not much to start with, but still...At least now he knew where to proceed...

Thanking Lisa for her help, he scribed his number for her, in case she would need his assistance, any assistance at this. Saying his haste goodbye he turned to catch a cab: he knew exactly where he needed to go...

* * *

_**Lindsey Braton's apartment, 9:55 pm**_.

Harry looked up at the door. Number 26, that was the address that Lisa had given him. Surely the police had already been here. He only hoped to find something that they had missed, though, something, well...not really conventional. With an elementary spell, the old lock gave in, and the wizard entered the apartment, holding a hockey stick closer to him. If Lindsey Braton was a current guest at magic stores, one could never be over prepared. The corridor was dark and cramped. In the faint light of his stuff, Harry could make out various boxes and dusty piles of books nesting along the walls. That surely wasn't how an average young woman's place should look like. Then again, from what he had learned, Lindsey was anything but an average. He navigated cautiously through the hall to the small living room, trying not to run into anything. Here, everything seemed typical, normal even. A bookshelf, a small shabby-looking couch, a TV-set. Nothing extraordinary, not a single thing that would hint on why the girl died. It was mediocre – yes, but not enough to drop the bomb.

Harry walked further into the apartment. The bedroom door was shut, the salient white against the darkness of the place. Entering, Harry instinctively found the switch, before the room was basked into the pale light of the single bulb. Blinking away the dancing spots in his eyes, Harry looked around attentively. He almost wasn't surprised when he saw the pentagram drawn in the center of the bedroom, encircled with white candles. The room was as spartiously furnished as the rest of the apartment. There was a small desk, a single bed and a large dark wood wardrobe. Actually the latter was enormous, occupying half of the wall. As if triggered by some unseen force Dresden came closer to the oak doors and opened them. Inside, nested on asymmetrical shelves, were hundreds of bottles with different substances: herbs, stones – yep, he had no doubt that Lindsey was not only connected with magic, she practiced magic. Did she went too far in her pursuit, so that she had to pay with her life for that? Did she even realize what dark a path she was choosing?

A movement to his left caused Harry to snap out of his thoughts. He whirled to face an unnaturally huge man dressed in old worn-out black robes, his face disfigured and marred by numerous scars, looking like some gruesome map of deformity. One scar stood out peculiarly – it was angry red resembling some kind of an ancient hallmark. His heart sinking, Harry realized that his hockey stick still rested by the wall, on the other side of the room, just where he had left it, when switching the lights on. The figure growled and the sound sent shivers down Harry's spine. It was a roar, so magnificent and terrifying in its intensity, he was sure that half the block heard it. The battle cry of an ancient warrior going to his final fight...

Before Harry could make even a step back, a whirl of black lunged at him with unimaginable inhuman speed. An imminent blow sent him flying across the room, landing with a laud thud amid the debris that once was the desk. Struggling with the darkness that seemed to overwhelm all his senses, Harry tried to move, or at least reach out for his stuff. With his deeming senses, he more felt than actually heard the man coming closer... That was it, the end...Helpless to do anything, to move, even to shift his arm, Harry Dresden prepared for the final stroke.

"You must not be in here," the demon wheezed, his rusty voice lost on the wizard, as the void of darkness suffocated him.

* * *

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